


fairshawlidays 2020 !

by Imnotbabey



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blankets, Candy Canes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, Innuendo, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mistletoe, OC: Arielle Gladerunner, OC: Edwina Mange, OC: Fontaine Tidewater, OC: Marity, Poor shaw...... why do i do this to him, Rated t for teen due to alcohol consumption, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Update: changed to rated m for sex jokes but nothing explicit, fairshawlidays, like seriously so much fluff, winter's veil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28056816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imnotbabey/pseuds/Imnotbabey
Summary: oh, there's no place like ao3 for the fairshawlidays!(a collection of my stories for @boilingheart on tumblr's fairshaw holiday week, fairshawlidays !)
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind & Original Character(s), Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw, Mathias Shaw & Original Character(s), Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	1. mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> day 1 - mistletoe  
> a.k.a. the longest ficlet of the whole thing lol

Mathias Shaw was, as always, minding his own business. And, as always, Flynn Fairwind was not.

It started at an inn, because what _doesn't_ in Kul Tiras?

Since the Alliance started their campaign into Kul Tiras, Shaw went, alone, to the Snug Harbor Inn every Saturday to wash down whichever odd events or horrific tragedies had occurred with some ale and - occasionally - vodka. Normally a man such as Shaw would never drink, he always needed to be ready and available, but Light damn it all, the war was _taxing_ and he needed an outlet.

Unluckily for him, that week everyone aboard the Wind's Redemption was ready to continue in advancing the war campaign, and establish their second foothold in Zandalar. _Luckily_ for him though, their Druid champion, Arielle, had decided to fuck off to light-knows-where instead of working on the war campaign, so Shaw only had his typical duties to worry about for now.

It was winter, now, so Shaw was wearing a heavy coat over his usual garb, hood up, along with the scarf which Edwina had given him years prior. It wasn't snowing quite yet, but damn was it cold, and to say the wind was bracing would be an understatement. He walked faster than usual from the ship to the inn, desperate for shelter.

The moment he reached the door, he heard the gentle noise of an accordion from inside, playing a Winter's Veil tune. He couldn't recall the name, but it was pleasant enough. He stepped in and felt the warm atmosphere of the inn envelop him, a much welcome reprieve from the blistering cold of outdoors. He pulled his hood back down and cracked his neck with a sigh.

_Oh no._

Unluckily again, notorious flirt and drunkard Captain Flynn Fairwind was at the Snug Harbor Inn. Of course.

Looking next to said man, he saw the revered Alliance champion, clad in her casual Boralus daily wear, nearly passed out at the bar, with Fairwind standing almost above her and laughing. _So, that's where she went._ Distantly, Shaw heard him say something along the lines of, 'You weren't kidding when you said you weren't good with hard liquor.'

Shaw was ready to slip into the shadows and avoid the two entirely when the ridiculously drunk night elf beneath the captain caught his eye, and her mouth opened just slightly. He had been seen. _Shit._

"Heeeeeey Shaw-ey! The Shawshank spy-man! The Shaw-ster!" Arielle rambled rather loudly in an attempt at a cross-room greeting, and Mathias wanted nothing more than to run across the inn and put his hand firmly over her mouth to shut her up, and perhaps put a dagger between her ribs. That really depended on whether anyone cared. Evidently, no one in the place was paying attention. 

"…hello, Arielle." He replied grudgingly, walking slowly over to the pirate-druid pair - they were tipsy and completely wasted, respectively.

"No, no, everybody calls me Ari," she was exactly as loud as before despite Shaw being leagues closer. "S' why're ya here?" She asked, still seeming at least a little coherent despite her… _intense_ inebriation.

"I come here every Saturday Arielle, I thought y-"

"No!" She almost shouted, and Shaw didn't flinch, though he would have if he was a lesser man. "No, stop, call me Ari." Shaw sighed. This would be difficult to deal with. He looked up to Fairwind to try and seek some sort of help with her, but the captain simply smiled and looked at them with amusement dancing in his gaze.

"Fairwind." Shaw snapped, and the captain looked up from his continued chuckling at Arielle to make - rather intense - eye contact.

"Yeh?"

"I think we should get Arielle-" he immediately noticed the Druid opening her mouth and corrected himself before she spoke again, "I apologize, I think we should get _Ari_ somewhere to rest."

He made a small click with his tongue. "Awh, you wanna be alone with me," Flynn teased, though he leaned his weight back onto his feet and put his arm under Arielle's to move her as Shaw had suggested. Shaw suppressed all reaction to Flynn's suggestion.

"Come on, up ya go, we gotta get you in bed." He said conversationally to the elf he was holding now, trying to coax her to get up.

"Wha...? You aren't getting me in bed! I don't even like dudes!" She was, quite clearly, trying to act offended in an attempt to be comical, but her drunkenness exaggerated it so much that it was more laughing _at_ her than _with_ her.

"Oh come off it, kitty cat. You know I didn't mean that."

"Yeah, I know, I know, I know, I--" as she stood up, she wobbled, and Shaw fought to urge to leap over and help Flynn catch her. "...oh I'm gonna be sick." Flynn momentarily appeared panicked before he gently set her back down in her seat and turned to the innkeeper, who was pouring alcohol for someone else.

"Hey, uh, mate, do you have a bucket and an open bed?" The innkeeper sighed in response. It became apparent to Shaw that Flynn had, most definitely, done something like this before. The innkeeper rather wearily passed the mug to another patron - at a glance, he saw it was a gnome woman - and nodded.

* * *

It had been approximately 15 minutes since Arielle had been safely dragged upstairs and into a bed without hurling, and Shaw was still drinking with Flynn. The captain had taken off his overcoat and hung it on the back of his chair, Shaw following suit with his heavy jacket. He had ordered an Ambrosia of some kind for himself, and Flynn just asked for 'the hardest hitting Ale you got.' Shaw wasn't sure exactly what the captain was drinking, but why should he care? Why should he care what a handsome, charming, wonderful man--

_Stop it._

Evidently, he'd had a bit too much to be letting himself think that way. (He had only drank a single glass, but comforting lies are more convenient than the truth, sometimes.)

"You think you're hot shit, dontcha?" Flynn asked out of the silence. 

_Ah, yes,_ _charming,_ Shaw repeated in his head, _this is the same man I called charming just now._

"I-" he spluttered, trying to decide whether to be offended or… well, there wasn't any other appropriate reaction, was there? "What?" He asked after settling on offended.

"Oh, don't tell me you Stormwind folk are _so uptight_ you don't know what that means," Flynn scoffed, leaning on the bar and knocking back his ale.

"Of course I know what it _means!_ " Shaw exclaimed, admittedly louder than necessary. Flynn smirked at getting a rise out of him and finished off his drink - the first one - before winking at the barkeep who rolled his eyes and refilled the mug.

"I- I am not overconfident," Shaw said as assertively as he could… or at least he thought he did. The amusement in Flynn's eyes suggested that it had sounded more like whining.

"Oh, _come on!_ You must not hear yourself if you really think that." Flynn took another swig. Shaw didn't respond, so the man decided to kindly provide examples. "Every time someone talks to you. ' _I thought I saw you glance in my direction,'"_ Flynn imitated with an exaggerated Eastern Kingdoms accent, and Shaw suddenly realized how dumb it sounded when anyone else said it.

"You lean against the damned mast all day with your arms all crossed, just staring at the distance to seem all mysterious. Oh, and the way you introduce yourself, 'Shaw, Mathias Shaw,' who even does that?" Flynn laughed, and Shaw fought to keep his cheeks from burning. He had a _reputation_ , light damnit.

"Oh, oh, look at your face, you want to snark off at me right now, don't you? Wanna say something like, 'that's rich coming from a pirate.'" Shaw continued to stand there, completely _bewildered_ at what Fairwind was saying - and at how correct he was. His cheeks were surely red now.

After a few moments of insufferably smug silence, Fairwind said something insufferably smug with his insufferably smug face.

"This is fun. We should do this more often."

Shaw scoffed and took a small sip. “Definitely not.”

Flynn did that adorable chuckle he did often, where his shoulders shook and he breathed a laugh, but no noise came out. Shaw averted his eyes and took a swig of his drink. After that, they fell into amiable silence, something he didn't think was possible with Flynn.

* * *

Following that encounter, there was another period of nearly an hour of the two enjoying each other's company and exchanging banter. It felt natural, more natural than he expected, and Shaw was almost happy.

It did, in fact, also include very, very much drinking. On Flynn's part, three tankards of intensely strong ale (after one sip, Shaw wasn't able to take any more of the stuff), and on Shaw's part three glasses of Ambrosia. His drink was _considerably_ less strong than what the captain was drinking. But, granted, Shaw was also much smaller and therefore could take much less. They were, honestly, probably equally drunk.

Flynn set his tankard down with a mildly alarming rattle. Shaw tried not to show how it startled him, but considering his inebriation, he probably didn't hide it well.

The captain clasped his hands and stretched his arms up above his head, and Shaw heard his shoulders and back pop in five places, at least. Then, he cracked his neck to either side, and the intensity and quantity of the following crackles was… a bit concerning. Shaw, this time, did not try to hide how he admired the man's form.

But Flynn seemed completely unfazed by the sheer amount of cracking emitted by his young body. (Shaw, however, was very fazed. A man of twenty-five years should not crackle and pop like an old man when he moved.)

"Aye, I'm… a little soused, I'll tell the truth," Flynn rumbled, "maybe we should… maybe we should get going it's, uh, a little-- a little, erm, late. Yeah, late, that's- what I was looking for, that's the word." Oh dear, he really was drunk. But maybe so was he, when he thought about it. 

"Idiot," Shaw responded. He stood - and no, he did _not_ waver when he did so - and gestured vaguely at Flynn. After a moment, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Where will you be going?"

"To… my house?" Flynn asked, standing up. He _did_ waver when he stood up, and he picked up his coat in a shaky grip. "Where the bloody hell else? And you're, uh, going back to the, um," Flynn snapped his fingers in the air a few times before-- "The ship! The, the Wind's whatever. Right?"

"Yeah." He responded in one breath. "But isn't- don't you live- across the Sound?"

"What? I live in the city." The captain slurred.

Shaw felt himself squint a little. "But that's- it's so cold," he said, "You can come with me, it's a shorter walk."

"Oh." Flynn deadpanned. "The ship has an extra room?"

"No, you can just…" Shaw shook his head. "Sleep with me, I suppose." He picked up his coat.

Flynn sucked his teeth audibly and nodded. "Yeh, smart. Too cold. You're a smart guy, y'know that?" He pulled his jacket on him, and Shaw did the same with a half a roll of his eyes.

"Let's go then. It's late." Shaw repeated. Flynn gave a little nod and took a step forward. 

Instantly the captain keeled over, but Shaw surged forward to grab him. His arms were bracketed by Shaw's own now, and Flynn's jacket was warm to the touch, leather and fur softer than anything Shaw wore. The captain looked up at Shaw without moving his head, which wasn't much of a difference at all.

Their eyes locked, and the spymaster's cheeks heated like a thousand suns. The captain's eyes were a beautiful seafoam blue, Shaw realized. The two were close now, closer than they'd ever been before. He could smell Flynn, all salt and ale. He was close enough to kiss with ease, and his lips looked so soft, and he smelled good, and Light, he was giving him some sort of _look--_

Flynn stood up again, out of Shaw's dumbfounded grip. "Alright, okay, I'm back. Lead the way, good sir." He laughed. Immediately, he gripped onto the arm of Shaw's coat again, clinging to him and looking rather jarred by nothing at all. Shaw allowed Flynn to get comfortable, and the taller man leaned over onto the spymaster a bit so he could wrap both arms completely around Shaw's one. The proximity and the warmth of Flynn made Shaw blush again.

He sighed a little, before walking to the door with Flynn - quite literally - in tow. Under the doorway, just out of the wind, he looked to the barkeep and did a nod that made his head spin. 

"I'll pay for this - all of it - next week." The barkeep nodded back, and laughed a bit. Shaw couldn't figure out why until he heard a chuckle from Flynn. It escalated very quickly to him laughing raucously, and resting his head on Shaw's arm. 

He noticed the man was looking up. He looked up too and--

_Oh._

Mistletoe. Of course.

"So," Flynn slurred in a sing-song voice. "Gonna gimme a smooch?"

"I-" Shaw stumbled for words. What exactly was he expected to do now? "This wasn't here before," he stated simply, looking to the barkeep with pleading eyes (though he wasn't exactly sure what he was pleading for). The bartender looked up from the glass he was wiping off and smirked mischievously, like a child who'd gotten away with something. 

"Yeah, we put it up while you two were over there," the man chuckled. "Wasn't intentional," he added with a wink, and for the second time that afternoon, Shaw considered giving somebody a good stabbing.

"You gotta." Flynn whined, and Shaw's attention was sucked back to the man clinging to him like life itself. "It's a- a thing, um… a tradition! You gotta kiss me."

"I don't _have_ to…" Shaw whispered. He wasn't sure why he was whispering.

Flynn smiled up at him through his lashes, like described in every romance novel Shaw had read. "But do you wanna?"

And that? That broke Shaw, because he really wanted to, more badly than he'd ever wanted anything else. The view of Flynn's face, framed by those two loose locks of hair he always had, in the light of the lanterns around the inn, those seafoam eyes through his lashes, with that damned _smile,_ it was all too much.

Shaw reached with his free arm, grabbed Flynn's face, and pulled him in for a kiss.

He tasted like ale, too.

The kiss was rough and messy and a little gross, but it felt satisfying and so right.

For a moment, nothing mattered anymore but them. There was no winter, no blistering wind, no innkeeper standing there. There was no stars, no worlds, no universe, no one but each other. 

They kissed and kissed for what felt like an hour, until Flynn pulled back with a shaky smile that shook through Shaw like a tremor. "Now that's taken care of… back to your place?" He wiggled his eyebrows a little and Shaw chuckled warmly.

"Yes."


	2. bundled up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which flynn fairwind is cold, and he makes it mathias shaw's problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 2 - bundled up  
> a.k.a. a continuation of day 1, to tie up loose ends

"Mm, it's cold," Flynn groaned. He still was completely clothed, heavy coat and all, leaning against the wall just inside the doorway of Shaw's room on the ship. He was also still very drunk. The room was surprisingly spacious, but not large by any means. Flynn was almost touching the spymaster's bedframe even then. 

Shaw had already shedded jacket, corset, and boots, down to a soft cloth shirt and his smallclothes, and crawled into his bed like a man lost at sea finding dry land. (Flynn had experience with that, and the resemblance was remarkable, really.)

"Just come to bed," Shaw mumbled, already sounding half asleep, "I brought you here 'cause it's cold."

"But that means I gotta take off my jacket and it's too _cold,_ " he whined.

Shaw gave a rumbling laugh, to which Flynn responded with a half-glare. "We've said the word cold too much. It sounds ridiculous. Just… c'mere before I regret it." He gave a lazy sort-of-smile-but-not-really and lifted the blanket up, and damn him if that wasn't the best invitation Flynn had ever received.

He shedded his jacket onto the floor without a scrap of care as to where it ended up and stumbled over to the bed while trying to remove his shoes. Shaw then gave him what he was fairly certain was supposed to be a withering look and patted the side of the bed with the hand not holding the blanket. Flynn nodded, which made his head spin a little, before sitting down. The mattress sank a bit under him as he went to remove his boots properly, and once they were off, he - similarly to his jacket - just put them wherever. 

His clothes were comfortable, soft enough to sleep in easily, so he really didn't mind.

He shuffled carefully under the blankets in front of Shaw, and he reached to take the blanket from him. Their hands laid on top of each other for a moment before Shaw registered he was trying to take the blanket and pulled his hand back, curling it into his chest and shivering a little.

"You're letting cold air in, just--"

He reached forward and yanked Flynn towards him until their skin touched, acutely warm against each other. Before either of them could do anything, Mathias flipped over so his back faced Flynn's front and shuffled backwards into the other man's body. He took the hint and wrapped his arms around the spy, who relaxed a bit in his grip. He made an attempt to slot his knees just behind where Shaw's were, but as he did so, Shaw tangled their legs together and gave a content sigh that Flynn was _sure_ he didn't realize he'd done.

Mathias was like a furnace against his chest, even through two layers of cloth between them, and his legs felt all the warmer between and around the captain's own. It was cozy, pleasant, and the captain supposed it was really any plethora of adjectives that implied warm and fuzzy feelings. Domestic, even, but Flynn hesitated to use that one. 

Comfortable, he thought, would be the best way to put it.

"Didn't think you'd care if I was cold. Gentlemanly of you." Flynn admitted, breaking the brief silence.

"I'd bundle you up in my own clothes before I let you freeze to death," Shaw replied, breath warm where it touched Flynn's arms, which were crossed over the spymaster's chest almost protectively. _Hmm. Didn't realize I was doing that._

Flynn took a sharp breath in through his nose and nuzzled his face into Mathias' shoulder. "Thanks, mate." He mumbled against the other man's skin, warm against his face.

"Oh, you're hot." Flynn whispered. He didn't intend it like that, but the spymaster started a bit in his grip, and he relished in it with a small snicker. "Like my own personal heater," he added, and clung even tighter to Shaw.

"You're crushing me," Shaw sighed.

"Ah, sorry, just… warm," Flynn rumbled, loosening his hold a bit. He heard the spymaster's audible sigh of relief when he did so.

"Just… Go to sleep." Shaw mumbled. Flynn swore to every god and every titan that he sounded _fond,_ and he wasn't exactly sure how to feel about that. Drunk and tired pondering of the nature of relationships didn't seem much a good idea to the captain. Despite that, even, he didn't have much time to ponder how much they would both regret this in the morning. 

Within minutes the warmth of the spymaster got to him and he started drifting, drifting, drifting to sleep, bracketing Shaw's shivering form with his own.


	3. terrible mishap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which flynn fairwind is an idiot in all the right ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 3 - terrible mishap  
> a.k.a. i really, really fudged the prompt, and it's only tangentially holiday-related, but hey,

It was, by every measure of the term, a perfect day. 

It was frightfully close to Winter's Veil, but it was warm enough that Shaw didn't freeze. It wasn't snowing, so the ground wasn't slick and iced over. Shaw sat comfortably in his Alterac cabin, plenty warm with enough food and water and clean clothes; everything he needed to have a perfect day without any interruption or aggravation or needing to do anything but heat up soup and chicken. All the Winter's Veil gifts he needed to get were already bought, wrapped, and stored safely away in a closet. The sky was blue, there was no news from his operatives, and there was no horrible tragedies going on. 

And honestly, it was horrifically boring. Of course, Shaw didn't really  _ want  _ a disaster to happen, but he would be lying if he said he didn't think it would help spice things up a bit. 

Shaw repressed a sigh.  _ Flynn's recklessness is rubbing off on me. Horrible. _

And as though summoned by his thoughts, Shaw heard the man.

They had received a set of small enchanted stones from Jaina back during the treasury heist which they could speak to each other through. It was in case they got separated in the place, but afterwards she had refused to take them back, insisting that he and Flynn kept up communication. After this, Shaw had thrown the stone in his closet. He kept it, but out of earshot, out of sight, and out of mind. After the events at the Gilded Rose, though? He kept it in his pocket if at all possible.

"Mattie! Come to the  _ Wind's Redemption _ , and fast! Something's been stolen." The captain's voice panted through the stone. He sounded beyond shaken, which made the spymaster's heart seize.  _ Lightdamnit, I was kidding when I wanted a disaster! I was joking! Shit. _

Shaw picked up the stone and gripped it tight until a barely audible whirl sound let him know it was active. "On my way." He replied, shoving it in his pocket and leaping up from his chair. He grabbed his daggers and poisons from by the door, attached them to his belt as fast as humanly possible, and grabbed his secondary Hearthstone. He had his normal one, which was linked to his house, and this was one supplied to every Alliance soldier in the fourth war. It teleported him directly to the Snug Harbor Inn in Boralus. He gripped it tight as magic swirled through the stone.

* * *

The moment he blinked into existence in the Snug Harbor he broke into a sprint out the door, startling everyone in the building. He didn't stop to apologize. 

His heels slammed almost painfully against the cobbled pavement with every two-foot-long stride he took. He bounded down the sets of stairs two at a time and startled the shoe seller that stood nearby as he doubled back towards the Harbormaster's Office with frightening speed. 

He raced inside, taking those stairs two at a time as well. He stopped for the first time when he got to the bottom. The place was empty aside from guards. He investigated, briefly. No Crestfall, no Fordragon, no Greymane, no Fairwind, and neither Provisioner Fray nor Brother Pike were behind the small counter.

_ Fuck. _

Then he noticed the first hint something wasn't exactly right. The guards were smiling, but when they noticed his gaze they schooled themselves to neutrality, and Shaw was thoroughly confused. He shook his head as though it would help clear his thoughts.  _ Flynn said the Wind's Redemption, so that's where I need to be. _

He raced out the door and past startled merchants, up the ramp onto the ship.

He stopped dead in his tracks, reeling from the sheer speed at which he skidded to a stop.

Everyone - literally, Shaw was honestly a little stunned - was gathered on the opposite side of the ship in a crowd behind Flynn, who was standing square in the middle. He was a short foot or two in front of the spymaster, looking far too calm and content.

"Flynn, what--" Shaw panted, "What was stolen?"

Flynn didn't answer, but their eyes locked, and Shaw almost collapsed with relief. Fynn's gaze told him everything he needed to know, but gave nothing away all at once, and it was infuriating. Nothing was actually wrong. Flynn had brought him here under false pretenses, but what was  _ actually going on  _ was still annoyingly unclear.

Well.

It was unclear until he reached into his coat pocket and got down on one knee, and Shaw seized up a little. His eyes flew wide and his face morphed into some sort of expression he couldn't discern himself. And if he was a little red in the cheeks now, it was from the wind.

Flynn held a black velvet box, opening to reveal an ornate truesilver ring with an azure gem inlaid, the color of the pirate's eyes.

"Mathias Shaw, with the Light and the Tidemother as my witness, will you marry me?" He asked in the most earnest of voices the spymaster ever heard.

"Oh, you- I-" Shaw sputtered, "All of this for--?"

"All of this for you," he replied with a wobbly smile. Shaw realized the captain was shaking. "So… what's the verdict?"

"Of course I will, of course. You dolt of a man, I love you." He replied, and Flynn responded by smiling wide as a crescent moon and clumsily slipping the ring on his finger.

"I love you too, mate," he whispered, standing and pulling Shaw in for a kiss. His hands rested on the spymaster's hips and the spymaster's hands on his jaw, pulling him in. Their gathered crowd roared with applause, whoops, and a distinct, 'aww, he's all grown up!' from Cyrus. 

Distantly, he registered a hearing a shutter flash while they kissed, and he assumed Kelsey was probably taking pictures of them.

When they pulled away, the clamor died down. Shaw rested their foreheads together and smiled a private little smile, just for the two of them. That was a moment neither would forget anytime soon, and Shaw personally wouldn't care to ever forget.

"Though… something was actually stolen, y'know." Flynn said out of the peaceful silence. Shaw froze and turned a wide, alarmed gaze onto his fiancee.

"What?" He snapped.  _ He may be my soon-to-be-husband but I can and will stab him.  _

"My heart." Shaw's face fell as Flynn burst into raucous laughter. "Oh, shoulda seen your face, that was  _ great, _ " he cackled. 

The spy rolled his eyes and sighed fondly with a lopsided smile. "My stupid, stupid fiancee."

" _ My _ brilliant, yet daft fiancee!" Flynn replied with a self-satisfied grin.

He'd never fit so well with someone.


	4. sweet tooth / holiday party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which mathias brings flynn along to an si:7 holiday party as emotional support.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 4 & 5 - sweet tooth & holiday party  
> a.k.a. yesterday i wrote it and realized that 'sweet tooth' was ridiculously short so i waited to publish it a day later and i combined it with the next day's prompt lol

Shaw decided to throw a Winter's Veil party for SI:7 at Flynn's urging, and it was going considerably well.

Shaw's employees were mingling with each other, enjoying a selection of food supplied by Fontaine Tidewater's wife, Marity. Fontaine was a Kul Tiran woman, and despite how new she was to SI:7 - and to being a rogue - she was one of his best agents. 

She was far better than Tony, who was actively trying to flirt with her as she, arms crossed, looked at him as someone would look at a stupid animal hitting its reflection in a mirror. Amused at the sheer idiocy of the situation, she visibly restrained a laugh, which Tony didn't notice. Marity, standing behind the buffet she'd made, was doing the same, muffling chuckles behind her hand - with a band around her finger that matched Fontaine's  _ very obvious  _ wedding ring.  _ Tony is an idiot. _

Edwina Mange was gesturing wildly as she spoke to Arielle Gladerunner, whom he'd invited mostly because she was one of a few key Alliance champions. Also, she was Flynn's friend, and it would make Flynn happy for her to be there. She claimed she was invited as a 'bouncer' and called herself the 'Champion Guard Force,' while he called her the much more reasonable term, 'Honorary Guest.'  _ But, she's just like that. No wonder her and Flynn are friends. _

Other employees talked and drank together too. There was one male gnome sitting on the shoulders of a human woman so he could make eye contact while talking to a kaldorei man. Across the room, a void elf showed off the dark tentacles she could materialize from her hair and the Pandaren girl she was talking to blushed visibly even beneath her fur and took a nervous sip of her wine.  _ Ah. Well, I did not need to see that happen. _

Flynn was distracting Marity with comedy now, and he was pilfering the large buffet, his plate filled with turkey coated in obscene amounts of gravy, a small amount of sweet potato pie on the side, and a candy cane in his mouth like a toothpick.

And Shaw? Well, he wasn't doing much. He stood on the balcony above, nursing a wineglass of Dalaran White and watching the party go on.

He didn't notice he was staring until Flynn waved up at him with the hand not on the full plate. He smiled down at the man and nodded to the side. Flynn nodded back and started towards the stairs to climb them and reach Shaw. 

When he did so, he let go of the plate in the air and it suspended itself with a faint arcane glow and Flynn shook his head at it with an admiring smile.

"Tides, I'll never understand arcane magic." Shaw chuckled and leaned forward in the railing at that, and Flynn laughed a little too, before--

"Wait- how much did you pay for this stuff?" Flynn gawked. Shaw… wasn't exactly sure what he meant.  _ The whole party? Or--? The magic plates? _

"... for what?"

"For these enchanted plates!" He exclaimed, gesturing around as though Shaw didn't know what plate he meant. 

"Oh, as a government organization. we had them bought for--"

Flynn groaned, interrupting the spymaster. "Government organization, ugh, that makes it sound boring."

"Well, it's true. As an offset of Stormwind government, we get funding from the crown, and part of that is paying for functions like holiday parties if the going is good enough that it won't hurt our operations. 

"None of this was any expense out of my pockets. I've always just… never had one." he shrugged. Flynn looked thoroughly bored until the end, where he perked up a bit with concern.

"Why?"

Shaw breathed a sad laugh. "Guess."

"Cos you're a miserable bastard without me?" Flynn teased, prodding the spy's side with his elbow.

Shaw chuckled and quirked a genuine smile at that. After a beat, he offered, "Absolutely."

* * *

A short 10 minutes later, Flynn had coerced Mathias into following him down the stairs to mingle with the rest of the party, and 10 minutes after that he had finished his gravy-coated turkey. 5 minutes after that, he finished his slice of sweet potato pie - he'd given compliments to Marity for how good it was - and put his plate in the stack of used plates. 

It was then he turned his attention, unfortunately for Shaw, to his candy cane.

Flynn latched his mouth around the long part of the candy cane, as one would eat it normally, and Shaw didn't think anything of it. That is, until he hollowed out his cheeks and started bobbing his head up and down the length of the candy cane, in a way that  _ no one  _ eats one of those… he was trying to mimic--

Shaw blushed at the thought.

"Oh  _ Flynn,  _ you are horrible," he groaned quietly. The captain took his mouth off the candy cane with an unnecessarily exaggerated and unnecessarily lewd wet pop noise.

"You gonna punish me for it, hm?" He taunted quietly, almost a whisper.

"Horrible," Shaw repeated, pulling Flynn over by his face to kiss him briefly. Unsurprisingly, he tasted minty when the spymaster kissed him, like a candy cane. "We are in public. You  _ cannot  _ do things like that." He growled in the captain's ear. To any outsider, the moment probably seemed sweet.

"Mm, think I can, actually. Can and will." Flynn whispered back.

"And I can and will shove you into a closet and--" he didn't get to say,  _ 'and lock you in there for the night,'  _ before Flynn interrupted him.

"Oh, Mathias, how could you say such risqué things in public!" He said at normal speaking volume rather than a whisper, and a few people turned their heads.

_ Fuck.  _

"Flynn! I was not." He replied at similar volume so everyone could hear that he was, in fact,  _ not  _ saying inappropriate things to his husband in the middle of a party.

He heard a gritty chuckle and snapped his gaze over to glare daggers at Edwina, who appeared to be…  _ considerably _ drunk and only supported by a wall, else she would be on the floor. After almost ten seconds she, drunk as she was, finally registered that he was looking at her and collapsed in dog-like howling cackles. 

Shaw couldn't help but crack a smile at that.


	5. surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which an unfortunate event makes for an unhappy shaw, until it doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 6 - surprise  
> a.k.a. personal things occured irl, leading to me being approximately two days behind, but here's a really long one to make up for that.

Flynn wasn't going to be home for Winter's Veil.

Shaw couldn't blame him. He had a job to do, and didn't have a choice. His voyage had already set off, and was going to run long due to horde interference, and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. Neither Flynn nor Shaw could have anticipated, corrected, or fixed it, no matter how they might've tried. 

But it still hurt. It hurt more than Shaw really appreciated. 

Early in Winter's Veil celebration was when they had first kissed and first snuggled. Shortly after was when they had gotten together. Early in Winter's Veil was when Flynn had proposed to him two years later. Mid-Winter's Veil was when Flynn had, a year after that, convinced him to stop wallowing and throw a party for SI:7, where he had some of the best fun of his life. 

But this year he wouldn't be home. Flynn would be on a ship, alone, halfway across the world, fearing for his life. Shaw would be in their cabin, with no one to warm him, presents unopened under the tree and waiting for a man who might never come home… 

But he had to get on with life.  _ He  _ still had  _ his  _ job to do, and he couldn't let himself get so down about it that he couldn't function.  _ Pull it together. The Spymaster of the mighty Alliance does not allow himself to slip like this. _

* * *

There was something wrong with Shaw.

Not, like, normal wrong, but  _ wrong  _ wrong. He wasn't extra snappy, or unnecessarily cruel, or hiding from people; that had all happened before, for various reasons. He was still Shaw, then, just a more crotchety Shaw that was meaner than usual. 

This was something new, and it had been going on for a few days. He was empty, like a shell of the real spymaster everyone knew. He was unusually meek, and he walked around the place like a ghost, didn't argue, didn't snap, didn't … anything, really. He came, did his job, left and that was it. 

He came in early and left late each day. No one had seen him anywhere but work, his apartment in Stormwind, and walking down the street between them. Not once did he go to his cabin, his real house; he stayed in the city. He only did that during intense wartime when he couldn't afford to be far away, and nobody could puzzle out why he was doing it now. Even when he had the rare marital problem with Flynn, he still went  _ home. _ No one saw him eat anything more than an apple or two each day, and no one could tell when or if he even slept. 

His eyes were dull, his face growing sallow and thin, and the bags under his eyes were steadily darkening by the day. Everyone was at least a little concerned for the man, but each time, Shaw refused to listen to it, shrugging it off without emotion and telling them to just keep working.

It was all eerily similar to when Varian lost the other half of his soul, but he was still Shaw enough that everyone was about 99.99% sure that  _ wasn't _ what was going on.

Something was happening or had happened that had him fucked up, and Renzik was just about ready to make whatever it was his business.

* * *

It had been a week since Shaw received the news. It was Veil's Eve now, and it was still all sinking in, even as he returned to their cabin for the first time since. 

Now, he stood outside the doors of their little home, in his uncomfortable, old heavy cloak, and with his bag grasped in hand rather than over his shoulder. It all looked so bleak. The wood looked grayer than it was brown, and even if there was a light of some kind in there, some sort of hope, Shaw couldn't have seen it. He'd shuttered all the windows before he last left. Shaw already had the door unlocked, but had yet to open it, still taking in the dismal appearance of the place and mentally preparing himself. It really  _ all  _ looked dim without Flynn beside him.

Yet, he could almost imagine what would happen when he walked in. 

Shaw would step inside the wooden doors and be overcome with the cozy scent of winter treats and the warmth of a fire Flynn had stoked.

_ No. _

None of that would or could happen. Flynn wasn't home, and wouldn't be for another few days still. It wasn't as though he was waiting inside for Shaw like he hadn't been across the world only an hour before.

Shaw reached forward as he thought that, opened the door, and--

He couldn't believe what he saw. 

He found a flame roaring merrily in the hearth, the cabin lit cozily by its firelight. His nose was hit immediately with the familiar, warm scent of chocolate and the nutmeg his dear captain always would put in the mugs of Hot Cocoa he made every Veil's Eve. And he was greeted with the sight of Flynn standing in the middle of the room, arms open, gaze fond and lit with nervous excitement.

"What?" Shaw breathed, whether in amazement or disbelief, he couldn't tell.

Flynn smiled nervously. "Surprise?"

Shaw didn't respond. He kicked closed the door behind him, and he didn't keep his shaky hold on his satchel. It clattered to the floor (Well, it didn't clatter. It was leather. The things  _ inside  _ clattered, but Shaw couldn't exactly think straight enough to notice that). 

Shaw ran full speed across the room and nearly tackled his husband in a tight embrace, arms encircling Flynn's neck and pulling him down slightly, Shaw's chin on his shoulder. Only moments later, Flynn's arms wrapped around the spymaster's torso, and he nuzzled against him with a content sigh.

"I sailed like hell," Flynn whispered into Shaw's neck with a smile in his voice, and that was familiar, wasn't it? "I sailed like hell, but I made it." Shaw's eyes were screwed shut, tears threatening his eyes. How much more could he will them to not spill out?

"You made it, you- you're here.  _ Flynn, _ " he replied, desperately repressing choking sobs, "I--"

Flynn pulled back enough that they would look each other in the face, but not so much that their arms moved from being tightly around each other. "I'm right in front of you. Right here with you, Mattie." Flynn blinked slowly and gave a shuddering breath, appearing on the verge of tears himself. 

"Kiss me." Shaw said desperately, and the captain obliged. When their lips met, it was the final confirmation needed that this wasn't some cruel joke his mind played on itself in a lonesome night's sleep. The kiss was tender and gentle and held all the warmth and belonging Shaw had needed so desperately. Their lips slotted together so perfectly that it was like the Light molded them, created them both, to complete the other perfectly. Flynn was  _ there  _ and he was  _ tangible, _ and it was  _ real.  _ And he was home for Veil's Eve, and--

Shaw felt the tears in his eyes finally break as they rolled down his cheeks, cold and sticky and altogether unpleasant, but he couldn't stop them. It was just so  _ much. _

"Hey, hey, don't cry, love," Flynn murmured against Shaw's lips. He must have felt the tears. "I'm here to stay. Here for the whole winter season. Not gonna leave again for a long while." He kissed the lines of tears where they rolled down Shaw's cheek, and the spymaster let out a broken sob. 

"I thought… I was going to be alone. With-without you…" he screwed his eyes shut again. More tears poured.

"Shh, it's okay, Mat. Love you, I love you, I'm here." He rested his forehead on Mathias', an act so tender and loving that the man let out another sob at it. "Come on, c'mere, I got you." He started backing up towards their sofa, and Shaw followed him, not letting go, until the back of the captain's legs hit the couch.

* * *

Flynn sat slowly, extricating himself from Shaw's grasp to allow the spymaster to curl in his lap like a cat. He still held the man, just a little and with only one arm, to 100% ensure he wouldn't fall off the couch. With the other, he stroked the spy's hair gently.

He blinked fondly down at the man curled up against him. Mathias Shaw, his husband, the love of his life… Flynn didn't think he could be much happier than he was in that moment. Winter's Veil had always been a special time for them and their relationship, and meant a lot to them both. Being there for Veil's Eve was the least he could've done, but he'd only just barely managed, though through no fault of his own. It still felt bad, but he pushed it down.  _ Blaming myself like that is something Mathias has repeatedly told me to quit doing, so maybe I should listen for once. _

"Shiv sent me a letter," Flynn started, after a few minutes of the two silently curled up together in the firelight, "Told me what you were getting to be like. He was worried for you, ya know?" Shaw's brows furrowed as Flynn continued stroking his hair. It was adorable. "I was already going as fast home as I could, I thought, but hearing what it was doing to you… I had to make it. I just had to. And I did, just barely. Just soon enough that I could light a fire and make our drinks before you got home." Shaw just listened, a warm smile gracing his once-crying face with a contented hum. 

"And, erm, sorry I couldn't bring you anything." Flynn sighed and didn't look at his husband. "I--"

"You with me on Veil's Eve is the best present you could've possibly gotten," the spymaster replied, reaching his hand up to his hair to take Flynn's weather-worn hand into his own. "You being here, it… it saved me, really." 

Then Flynn smiled.

And Shaw smiled. 

And wasn't that really all they needed?


End file.
